All too often I find myself measuring who I am and what I do against an abstract standard of perfection. If only I could be less judgmental, I’d be a better person; or The day I can meditate without my mind wandering all over the place, I’ll be a good monk. Below this dissatisfaction with ‘what is’ smolders a clinging to the belief that I’m not good enough, but that with hard work and a minor miracle I may yet become honourable and legitimate. Sounds familiar?
My Zen teacher advises to embrace my brokenness, to love who and what I am in any moment. Brokenness doesn’t mean imperfection or inadequacy; to me it implies that everything and everybody is inherently and simultaneously perfect and broken. The moment we’re born, we’re en route to die, for instance; a budding flower is destined to wilt.
Mark Epstein tells the story of meeting the Thai meditation master Ajahn Chah. Someone asked him a question.
Before saying a word, [Ajahn Chah] motioned to a glass at his side. “Do you see this glass?” he asked us. “I love this glass. It holds the water admirably. When the sun shines on it, it reflects the light beautifully. When I tap it, it has a lovely ring. Yet for me, this glass is already broken. When the wind knocks it over or my elbow knocks it off the shelf and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ But when I understand that this glass is already broken, every minute with it is precious.”
The Christian theologian Henri Nouwen* writes, “Perhaps the simplest beginning would be to say that our brokenness reveals something about who we are. Our sufferings and pain are not simply bothersome interruptions of our lives; rather, they touch us in our uniqueness and our most intimate individuality. … Our brokenness is truly ours. Nobody else’s. Our brokenness is as unique as our chosenness and our blessedness.”
*H.J.M. Nouwen. (1992). Life of the Beloved. Crossroad Publishing, p. 91. Image source unknown.
Thank you Peter. This is just what I need right now; to hear that the suffering and pain of our lives are not some interruption to be annoyed with, but rather a mirror into our soul.
Ah Peter, what perfect timing for these words. It makes me also wonder about ‘brokenness’ in relationship with someone we love … that there is a piece that may not be ‘healed’, a piece that remains broken, and finding my way to accept that brokenness as part of a ‘whole’ relationship …? I am exploring this …
How we love and adore the ancient ruins of Greece, the crumbling walls of centuries old churches, the worn and cobbled narrow streets of Jerusalem, the toothless smile that greets us on the corner to sell us trinkets. All broken, all beautiful – and our hearts are filled with joy that they are there.
Someone once called it, “exquisite melancholy” because that intimate place in us is comprised of more than our brokenness. Herein lies the Spirit of man, too!